Find joy in the ordinary. Max Lucado
Stopped at a gas station for a pick-me-up. It’s hot. It’s going to be miserable outside today, and I thought I’d get some “cool” sunshine before my day starts. A little juice perked me up just right. Sweet, cool, and refreshing.
If only it could stay like that.
It lifted my mood, though, and that carries a lot more weight than the oppressive heat.
I dunno. They’re just there. Maybe it’s the Holy Spirit messing with me a little. He knows I get a kick out of that.
Anyway…the birds. This heron has been a lone wolf around these parts as far as I can remember. One day he showed up and hasn’t left. Just the one. Well, once there were two, but usually it’s one. I can say this, he’s faithful to his little spot. There’s a branch that has made something like a sandbar in this little lake, and every morning he’s out there like a sentinel, just hanging out.
This morning was the first real cold morning of the season. The lake, on these mornings, reminds me of a scene out of “The Fall of the House of Usher,” when the narrator describes “the sullen waters of the tarn.” That’s my literary background creeping in on a gloomy morning.
Add the bird and you get a little character in there. There’s something about him that I like. Maybe it’s his constancy. Or his style. He’s pretty regal as he stands there, motionless. Or maybe it’s because he seems a little out of place. Maybe, he’s just hanging out there because he knows I appreciate him for no other reason than he’s there every morning.
There’s something to be said for presence.
We have a small infestation of ladybugs in our bedroom, and especially our bathroom. I don’t know how the little bugs got in, but they’re small, so they obviously found a way.
People keep telling me they are good luck. I don’t know about that, but they’re cute — when they’re not flying into my face or watching me. They aren’t watching me, are they? In the bathroom. Ew.
I did a little bit of research on them. Wikipedia suggests they were named for the Blessed Virgin, that’s why they are called Lady bugs, or Lady birds, in Europe. It turns out that in the Middle Ages, the farmers asked for Our Lady’s intercession to protect crops. I especially like the Dutch name for them, lieveheersbeestje, little creatures of Our Lord.
Isn’t that sweet? I think I’ll quit complaining about them.
